


Wander the Forest

by Freya_Druid



Category: K-pop, Original Work
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Strength, mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 01:29:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13260765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freya_Druid/pseuds/Freya_Druid
Summary: An isolated young woman comes across a strange cathedral in the forest behind her house, but nothing is truly as it seems.





	Wander the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> This story is very loosely based on Kim Jaejoong's music video 'Mine', contains some possibly triggering content with mentions of prolonged abuse. Enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think?

_ What is strength, really? Some would say that strength is a combination of physical prowess and the will to use it under the right circumstances. Others say strength is the ability to gain and maintain control. Still others say strength lies in the ability to resist doing something horrible because it is easy or feels good. If that is strength then he has none. But I digress, for despite all the ways strength has been explained to me, the one meaning that stuck with me best was this: ‘Strength is the capacity to endure the torments of life without letting them bring you to your knees.’ _

* * *

 

She didn’t wander the forest often, her parents had taught her that to leave the safety of their isolated cabin was dangerous, and that unimaginable monsters prowled the woods, lurking in the dark. But these warnings did little to quiet the curiosity bubbling deep in her stomach, and on rare occasion that curiosity was too much to bear.

On one such occasion, she left the house and went into the forest just as she always did on such days. Before she knew it she found herself in an unfamiliar area, which was not entirely uncommon as the forest was quite vast and thus far she had explored very little of it. In this part of the forest the tall trees reached upward to the sky, dark brown branches twisting in their quest and all together devoid of leaves. The air held a chill that was very much so out of place for the middle of summer, and the sky that had been clear just moments ago was now covered by a heavy layer of bulging grey clouds. A brief thought filtered through her mind, it was as if she had somehow wandered into an entirely different forest. As she looked at the sky she was slightly startled when a bright flash passed between the clouds, followed by the low rumbling of thunder. Just as the rumbling settled, the first fat, white clumps of snow started lazily drifting down to earth. 

Despite the peculiarity of the situation, she elected to continue onward, deeper into the forest even as the sky flashed and rumbled above her. As she wandered deeper into unknown territory, she became aware of the warm scent of a fire drifting through the eerily cool air. She traveled onward, the smell of the fire intensifying as she noticed a large structure not far ahead. It looked like some sort of cathedral, like the ones in some of the books she read in her room, back at home. The structure was large and imposing, made solely from chiseled black stone. Yet it remained somehow inconspicuous among the nearly black trees. There were a few windows made from cobbled shards of stained glass and a great pair of ominous wood doors, both inlaid with intricately carved patterns and stained a rich, deep brown that allowed them to blend seamlessly with the black stone walls that surrounded them. The girl couldn’t deny the twinge of fear the structure inspired deep within her gut but for some reason unknown to her, she also felt a great longing to venture inside.

After a few moments of internal debate, the girls curiosity got the best of her and she made her way up to the wood doors. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the fact that she would in fact enter the building, and gave one of the doors a shove, watching as it swung inward on well oiled hinges. The smell of a fire intensified as a blast of warm air swept past her, welcoming her into the cathedral. As she stepped inside, she examined the high arching ceilings and intricately carved pillars illuminated by the warm flickering light of the four elevated fire pits that were spread throughout the vast room she was in. At one end of the room there was a small staircase which led to a platform that sat at the base of a great stained glass mural that reached from the floor, all the way to the vaulted ceiling. A cold draft of air reminded the girl that she had left the door open, which she promptly closed as she realized how cold the outside air had become.

As the grand wood door shut with a solid ‘thud,’ the girl became aware of the nagging feeling that she was not alone. What’s more, she had the unshakeable feeling that she was being watched. With trepidation stirring in her gut, she turned away from the door, carefully walking deeper into the silent room, painfully aware that she couldn’t even hear the rumble of thunder outside. As the girl approached a stone box in the middle of the room that reminded her of a coffin enshrinement of nobility, the feeling of being watched intensified. Just as she prepared to call out, the girl felt a puff of warm breath on the back of her neck.

“How did you find this place,” asked a hushed, but no less commanding voice. The girl whipped around with a gasp, finding a somewhat intimidating man dressed solely in black standing just inches away from her.

“I-I was just exploring, I live not far from this part of the forest.” The girl backed away from the stranger as she spoke.

“Why do you wander my forest alone,” as the stranger spoke the girl caught a flash of bright white fangs. 

“Huh? Oh, I just wanted to see what there was beyond the walls.”

For a moment the room was silent as the stranger examined the girl, who was avoiding returning his scrupulous gaze by glancing at the various candles that adorned the walls, which she had not previously noticed. In a sudden flurry of movement, the stranger rushed to the girl, lifting her as he pushed her backward until her calves came into jarring contact with cold stone. As quickly as he had picked her up, he set her down so she was sitting on what she had previously labeled as an enshrinement, though she was now beginning to see it as more of a sacrificial altar. Now the girl truly looked at him, she noticed the unnatural, glowing slitted teal eyes that were gazing intently down at the arm which he was holding gently in both of his hands. She noted with detached amusement that his nails were painted a sleek black.

“Who did this to you?” Only after the stranger asked did she notice the marbled purple, blue, and grey marks on the pale skin of her forearm.

“Oh. That was father’s doing, I dropped a dish and it shattered. I thought I cleaned up all the pieces but father stepped on one I didn’t see and cut his foot. He was so sad that he took me to my room to teach me, that was from when he held my arm to take me to my room.”

“I see,” for a moment she could have sworn that she saw disgust flash in his eyes, but when the girl blinked the strangers sharp features were guarded once again. As he continued to stare at her damaged arm, she got a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time, that the way her father treated her wasn’t the only way to be treated. Just as she was contemplating the somewhat foreign thought, the stranger shifted his grip on her arm so only one of his hands was cradling her limb while he ran the palm of the other hand over her bruised flesh with feather-like lightness. When the girl looked down her arm was no longer darkened by damage, but her skin was pale and unblemished again.

Round, astonished eyes met calm teal ones as the she murmured a meek, “How?”

Ignoring her question, the stranger turned to look at the grand stained glass window. “The existence we accept as reality is often not all there is. With enough conditioning pain can become pleasure; sorrow, joy; even hate can take the appearance of love. But saying expressions of of anger are expressions of kindness does not make it true. Hate is hate, anger is anger, and when the truth is shown we come to see the lies that have been weaved throughout.” Now he turned back to stare into the eyes of the perplexed girl. “Do not let him continue to convince you that pain is pleasure, and hate is love.”

Considering his words carefully, the girl looked down at her completely healed armm, and she tentatively poked a finger into the once tender skin. Instead of jerking back because of a sharp jolt of pain, she remained perfectly still as no pain came.

“This is truth, so see it,” the girl jumped slightly as the stranger was suddenly only inches from her.

“Are you saying that father has been showing me hate, not love, all this time,” the girl asked somewhat incredulously.

“Sometimes it is easier to believe in the lie.” Despite the fact that everything the stranger said made perfect sense to the girl, she still did not want to believe him. Her father was all she had and she couldn’t bare the thought that he would betray her in such a way.

“I’ve always thought of father as such a strong person. He survived the loss of my mother when I was very young and even managed to raise me and keep me safe all by himself. I’ve always thought him strong. But within myself, for all these years, I’ve always feared him. Are children supposed to fear the ones who claim to love them?”

“No one should fear those who claim to love them, because no one who is truly loved would have a reason to be afraid. As for your fathers strength, just because he continued to breath does not mean he is strong. Those who take the easy way out are not strong, but those who endure, like yourself, are strongest of all.” The stranger’s intense slitted eyes held the girl entranced as he conveyed his point to her.

“But how am I strong? For 16 years I have believed my father's lies.”

“I don’t know about you, but to me strength isn’t how you continue to breathe even as you let yourself be changed beyond recognition by the past. Strength is something much more difficult to attain. Strength is the capacity to endure the torments of life without letting them bring you to your knees.”


End file.
